Contrary to what Slade’s actions screamed, the last thing on his mind was getting staked once he was inside their haven. This was the only way to get things back to normal, that’s all. He needed to get things back to the way they used to be. It wasn’t the acceptance Slade missed; therian goon squads were always taking volunteers. If he wanted to be a part of something larger, he could easily join the street forces and make a living rounding up bloodlusters. He didn’t really give a shit about the money, either. His apartment was a dump, sure, but it suited him fine. It was the respect he missed most. The way members of his team used to look at him with admiration when he made an impossible mark. He could barely remember their faces . . . it’d been so long.
“What about your mission?” Slade asked, trying not to sound like he gave a shit.
He lurched the Porsche into an alley and gunned it. “Ah, well, that doesn’t concern you.”
“So if you won’t tell me your name, and Asshole is out, what do I call you?”
“You won’t call me anything. I won’t know you, you won’t know me. In fact, if things go according to plan, you’ll never see me. You don’t think I would risk you tossing my head on the chopping block for your sick entertainment, do you?”
Point taken. In fact, that would’ve been the first thing Slade did once he made his mark. Didn’t matter to which species they belonged, traitors deserved traitors’ deaths. And this blood sucker was setting a therian loose on his own kind. Despicable. “All right, so what’s my in?”
“Christ, you really are Mr. Twenty Questions.” He swerved around a pothole and downshifted. “You’re going to change. Right now. Then you wait for my orders from within. It is imperative you do as I say. If you fail any part of the mission, the whole is lost. Understand?”
The music seemed to get louder and louder, pulsing through his temples. Peel away my skin, suck the ache from within, burn away the dead, that’s the way to soothe my soul . . .
“Shift. Become a hush puppy. Got it.” Hell of a deal; his soul for his returned status. Not like he needed his soul anymore, anyway. He’d already lost everything he’d ever valued.
“Let’s get a move on; we’re almost there. Can you do the deed in the Porsche without dripping red on my leather or do I need to pull over?”
More throbbing beats . . . fill me with your sin, this world will survive, but I . . . I will die with your venom inside . . .
“Here’s fine, but could you turn this shit off?” Slade twisted the volume knob until the only sounds in the car were his breathing and the purr of the boxer’s engine. “I need to focus for a minute.”
“Make it quick. In an hour or so this place will be hopping with our kind.”
Our kind. The phrase rubbed him all kinds of wrong.
Slade knew shifting into a vampire, an incompatible life form, would weaken him. What he didn’t know was by how much and for how long. Therians were much like snakes. When shedding their skin, they were defenseless. Vulnerable. Not a good combination when sitting so close to his enemy.
He shot the shadowed vamp a glare of distrust before he stripped down to his skivvies and tossed his jeans, sweater, and jacket in the backseat. No need for Calvin Klein to suffer.
Slade focused on a leech he’d seen in Paris twenty years ago: a young, cocky, blood-sucker who’d crossed Slade’s path one too many times and ultimately fell in love with the blunt end of his blade.
His heartbeat slowed to a throb, his breathing lulled into a peaceful, sleep-mocking rhythm.
Keeping focus was crucial. He tuned out outside noise. The boxer engine died down, the annoying tap-tap-tapping of Asshole’s fingers on the steering wheel faded to a distant, monotonous tick.
One too many times he’d been interrupted in the middle of a shift and turned into a gutter rat or a stray dog. Having lived on the streets for a large chunk of his life presented quite a conundrum. Shifting into things you’ve seen or heard was fine-fucking-dandy. But if all you’ve seen or heard recently were rodents and roadkill, your arsenal was bound to suffer some hits.
In that regard, tonight he lucked out. He’d seen enough vampires to last five therian lifetimes. Killed enough, too. Of course, considering the circumstances he’d have to pocket that vice for now.
The face of his future form emerged through the haze of his mind like light through mist. At first, the image of the young leech was blurred and distorted, his nose pointed down to his chin and his cheeks protruding far out of his face. Black pits of eyes bore through him, making the vampire look like a skeleton:all bones and no life.
Slade pulled the image forward, closer into view. Strong cheekbones and a rectangular jaw shifted into place. Eyes glowed crimson red. His body was strong, muscular, lethal. His skull-trimmed midnight-black hair resembled Slade’s own and made him glad he chose this form.
If he had to become one of these parasites, he wanted to at least be something as close to his original form as possible. Hell, if he was lucky he might be able to reuse his threads.
His veins hummed until they shook his core. Beads of sweat grouped on his temples and his temperature flared.
He didn’t know how long the tremors lasted, or what the shadowed man thought about his transformation. But when he came around again, he was panting, slouched into the seat and Asshole was glaring at him.
“Well that was interesting.” His clothes were tossed onto his lap. “Put these back on, would ya’? I wouldn’t want rumors to fly about me chilling in my Porsche with a half-naked newborn.”
Slade’s pulse raced. His mouth was dry like he’d been chomping on cotton all day. He licked his lips and . . . damn it! . . . cut himself.
Fangs. He had fangs.
Slade touched a shaky finger to his lip and withdrew it, staring at the tiny trickle of black blood. Oh God. This was really happening.
“Now we’re talking. Kinda puny, though. Couldn’t you have picked someone more threatening?”
Ignoring Asshole’s comments, Slade flipped down the passenger mirror and peered at his new reflection. Just as he thought; he’d shifted into a similar, slightly larger version of himself, only with red eyes instead of black. And fangs. Those would definitely take some getting used to.
Water. He could use some water pronto . . . and a big juicy steak. Maybe some mashed potatoes, garlic bread, and a rack of ribs to go along with it.
He struggled into his clothes, fumbling with the buttons, his strength returning each passing minute. Surprisingly, his body didn’t feel as deflated as he thought it would. The tremors were nearly gone, and his temperature was dropping fast. But his appetite was epic as usual, showing some things never changed after shifting.
The shadowed man pulled in front of a tomato-canning warehouse and killed the engine as the sun disappeared below the horizon. “No going back now,” he growled.
Slade opened his mouth to ask about scoring some grub before the mission when Asshole grabbed him by the back of his neck and slammed his face into the dashboard.
Darkness swirled around him. Warm gobs of blood ran down his forehead and into his eyes. Consciousness faded fast.
“Welcome to hell, newborn” a deep voice chuckled.
It was the last thing he heard before blacking out.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Drinking blood may scare mundanes, but only because it is different from what they know. Your genes, mutated at birth, have separated you from their race. Vampires know no fear. Vampires know survival. To survive, you must drink.”
—Newborn Induction Handbook, Chapter 1: Drinking
By the time Dylan turned down Industrial Drive and pulled in back of the warehouse, she was late for her meeting with the newborn. Good thing newbies didn’t know any better. Now, as long as she didn’t run into a superior in the halls, she’d be in the clear and “on time.” As usual.
Ruan entered the haven on her heels and veered left toward Royal Quarters. “Good luck with your speech.”
“Thanks, I’ll ne
ed it. And remember . . .” she called.
He turned back, his blonde hair even lighter under the haven’s yellow and amber lights. “I know, I know. You arrived at the haven right on time.”
“Wanna do me a favor and see if you can get an ID on Monroe? Dig around a little more?”
“Only if you let me come with you when you meet her.”
Always a stipulation with him, wasn’t it? “All right. We’re checking it out right after the Induction.”
“Sounds good. I’ll head over to the haven’s network now.” He turned down a long, winding corridor, out of sight.
The vaulted wood ceiling of the great room made the place look like some sort of medieval cathedral. An ancient Gothic diamond in the industrial-district rough. Heavily-glossed black stone flooring stretched through the main living space into wings of the pentagonal great room, adding modern flare to the mix. One wide branch led to Royal Quarters, another to the communal library, registrar, and movie room, while the remaining halls led to studio apartments brimming with khissmates in their final stages of transition and beyond. Dark chocolate-colored leather couches and loveseats formed small, intimate circles around the room, inviting people to gather and talk and kick up their heels, though she hadn’t kicked up anything in a long damn time. Walls painted dark ruby red soothed away worries dragged in from the street.
Dylan strode through the great room, nodding to a couple of girls who were gossiping loudly over last night’s episode of America’s Next Top Vampire. Yeah, she didn’t like Vixen’s overly-frightening attitude or Jayde’s prowling runway walk, either. And Tiana was crazy; those artificial elongated fangs were not fierce. They nearly scraped against her chin, for Pete’s sake!
Sadly, no matter how busy Dylan found herself at ReVamp, there was always time to be made for horribly interesting late-night CrimsonTV.
She veered left, down the second hallway leading to the registrar’s office. She stopped at the front desk and signed in, marking her time an hour earlier, of course, and then hightailed it to the section of the compound reserved for newborns and inductees.
The Hole, as it was frequently called, was not a hole at all. It was simply a separate quarter designed for newborns to adjust to their new life. It was located in a darker, more secluded area of the compound, as newborns’ eyes were still sensitive to even soft amber lighting. The furnishings were sparse and tonight the rooms were mostly empty.
Little money was spent to make the place comfortable because the simple truth of it was that sometimes newbies didn’t live past the final stage of their transformation. Why spend the time and energy when it could all be wasted?
Dylan passed through one of the front guard stations and turned right down a narrow hall. Doors leading to newborn living quarters flanked both sides of the corridor. She strained to remember which room held the newborn she was supposed to mentor.
Was it Four? Five? What the hell was happening to her today? She was normally so good with numbers, so organized. It seemed like David had pulled a thread in her mind and since he poofed! into thin air, the darn thread kept unraveling. She was losing control and had to get it back fast.
She checked her watch. All eyes were going to be on her in a couple of hours. Not much time to fix up this new guy and prep her speech.
“Where the hell have you been?” a deep voice boomed down the hall. She didn’t have to look; the anger was directed at her. She sensed it. And it came from the only person she didn’t want to see. “I was about to send out a search party!”
Erock stormed right up into her personal space and glared with blazing red eyes, his six-foot bulky frame towering over her.
Pushing flat against the nearest door to gain some breathing room, Dylan looked up at the small placard on the door reading 5. “I’m here now, aren’t I? There’s no reason to bust a vein.”
“Yeah, but you’re late. Your newbie’s up in an hour. There’s no way he’s going to be ready by then. Where have you been?”
“Out.”
He shoved his thick fingers through his hair and sucked in a quick breath, gearing up for a good tongue-lashing.
Shit. Now she was in for it. When would she learn to keep her mouth zipped?
His lecturing and constant badgering was worse than her father’s had ever been, and he was nowhere near her father’s age when he passed. What was ironic about the situation was that Erock was the mate her father had chosen for her right before he died. Raising a daughter by himself was no easy task, so it was natural that he wanted her to marry well—royalty was as good as any vampire could hope to get.
Erock happened to fit the bill.
Good thing the Valcdana ceremonies were now only reserved for unions with royal bloodlines on both sides. Instead of being a potential life-partner, Erock was now just a royal pain in her ass.
She sure as hell didn’t know how to answer his question without putting her backside in a sling. Tracking down a female vampire whose mate wanted to disobey the Court? And by the way, he chose death by sun rather than marriage to a royal. Yeah, that’d go over well. “I was looking into something that happened at the clinic earlier today.” She shot it as vague as she could get it.
His crow-black hair glistened in the overhead lights. How much gel did it take to slick it back like that, she wondered, straining to keep her eyes off his mop. “You find what you wanted?” he asked.
“I suppose. How did you know I was late? You didn’t see me come in or you would’ve said something.” Lord help Ruan if he’d blabbed like a three-year-old . . .
Erock glanced down the hall one direction, then the other. “Seeing as we’re connected, you and me, I got a feeling something was wrong and I went to your studio to check on you. You weren’t there.”
“We’re not connected. And nothing was wrong. I’m fine.”
Shadows played upon the sharp, angry angles of his face. “You weren’t at ReVamp either. I called. It’s a good thing you have me to watch out for you. Some day when you’re really in trouble, you’ll thank me.” He reached out to stroke his hand down her cheek.
She jerked back and reiterated. “You and I are not connected.”
“You only feel that way because you don’t know what I do.”
“Mind sharing that useless piece of information?”
He smiled, the tips of his fangs peeking from behind thin lips.
“Fine,” she said, hands to hips. “Be the cat that ate the canary. I’d love to stay and chat but I still have to prep this newbie and prepare for my speech.” Thank the Lord for tight schedules. Being strapped for time was suddenly a blessing. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” She opened the door a sliver.
“Yeah,” he said, a slow smile stretching across his face. “You have a lot to prepare for tonight. We both do.” His thick fangs elongated as his eyes traveled down her face, her shoulders, her breasts.
Something told her that Erock wasn’t talking about her speech, but she didn’t want to give into his petty game by begging him for answers. Nothing irritated her more than someone keeping valuable information from her. Nothing except this royal prick who couldn’t keep his eyes where they belonged. She didn’t have time to play games, especially with him.
“When you see Ruan again, tell him thanks a lot for me, would ya’?” She stepped into room five, slamming the door in Erock’s face.
Damn him for making her feel like she didn’t take her job seriously. And damn him for knowing something she didn’t and holding it over her head.
It took all her strength to take a deep cathartic breath and not stomp back out into the hall and tell him what she really thought of his pompous ass. Once she took her second breath . . . and then her third . . . her head straightened out.
She came here to do a simple job—that’s it. Prep this man for his future life with their race, educate him to their rules, and set him free to the Court for Induction.
Easy-do.
He’d be fine. She’d be fine. All she had to do
was focus.
Except when she turned around, she was not fine. In fact, she was light years away from a galaxy even resembling fine.
Lying on the bed at the far end of the room, sleeping exposed on top of the covers, was a newborn vampire. One bruised-up and bloodied, bronze-skinned powerhouse of a naked vampire.
She knew the right thing to do was leave. Come back when he was awake and decent.
Ignoring the logic racing through her brain was less difficult than she thought it’d be. She crept closer. Closer still. Her feet moved of their own accord now, completely separate from her brain and will. It was like she was standing on one of those moving walkways at the airport—even if she didn’t take a single step, she’d move forward anyway. When she reached the end of the bed, she found herself staring, unblinking, at his massive body.
Good gracious, he was a beautiful piece of work.
His head was twisted to the side, his body still as stone among the black silk sheets. His profile looked chiseled right out of priceless marble. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. Dark hair cut low to his skull, with caramel skin barely peeking through the stubble.
This creature was the most muscular newborn she’d ever laid eyes on. Her eyes drifted from his broad shoulders, over his bulk of muscles, down the center ridge of his back to his perfectly rounded . . .
Her core temperature went red hot, spiking through the roof. She forced her fangs to remain lodged. God, her body wanted him, even before her brain had time to think it. This was so not how it happened the last time she was with a man. It had been all give on her part and no take. But now, looking down at this newborn’s physique, heat flowed off her body in waves.
Intervamption Page 4